Shivers
by X23 Maximoff
Summary: Stiles was hoping that, with the Alpha pack gone, life could return to something kind of like normal. But of course, he's got to deal with werewolves and ghosts and things that go bump in the night. And he can't tell which is scarier - seeing apparitions of murder victims or trying to get through high school.
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! This is my first Teen Wolf story, and my first chapter story in a while, so I may be a little rusty...however, I'm very excited about where this is going, so enjoy!

**Chapter 1: There Are Lights On At The Hale House**

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The first thing he noticed about her was her knees.

Yes, that was a weird thing to notice about her, he was perfectly aware of that, thank you. But even though he had officially and finally moved on from trying to get with Lydia, he still had yet to break the habit of comparing other girls to her. It was slightly less unhealthy at this point - he would just think of the differences, rather than thinking that Lydia's insert-feature-here was better. So, that's why he noticed Jamie Grant's knees. The last time he had noticed Jamie Grant was in the second grade, when he was waiting to see the principal and she had come in to see the nurse with blood gushing out of her knee. Back then she had been a gap toothed tomboy with tangled white-blonde hair. Now, her hair was more of a golden yellow color, she actually brushed it, and a round of braces had aligned her teeth. And, Stiles was happy to say the scrape had healed just fine.

Stiles had been sent to the athletic trainer's room mid practice after sustaining, quite frankly, a hard fall on his ass. Greenburg, who was a rather large guy, had plowed straight into Stiles' torso, sending the smaller guy flying through the air and landing hard on one half of his backside. Now, Stiles wasn't normally one to panic, but since he heard a pop and felt a shooting pain across his back and some in his leg, he chose to go ahead and freak out. Thus why he was sent to the trainer's room to wait for the physical therapist, and why he was noticing Jamie Grant's knees as she sat next to his table on a rolling stool, a physics book open on her lap. Lydia's knees were small and delicate looking; they looked like the knees of someone who had not played outdoors as a child or participated in any sport ever. Jamie's knees had bruises all around and were surrounded by thick muscle with a thin scar going down one of them. Surgery, perhaps?

"ACL tear," she spoke up suddenly, causing Stiles to snap out of his reverie.

"Uh, what?" he said, trying to keep his cool.

"You were looking at my scar with a perplexed look on your face. It's from ACL repair surgery," she replied with a friendly smile. Ha_ha_, so Stiles was correct! Then, with a jolt, he realized he had probably just come off as super creepy.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to like, stare or anything," he stuttered, once again willing himself to keep cool.

"Oh, no, you weren't. I'm just kind of creepy observant like that," she said, with the same look of panic in her eyes that Stiles felt. He felt himself relax, glad he wasn't the only one out of countenance.

"It's cool, I know that feeling. Sometimes I feel like Shawn Spencer, only hopped up on ADHD meds."

"Right? And you have to pretend you don't notice some stuff 'cause then people will think you're really weird," she excitedly replied.

"I uh…usually just end up looking really weird." Stiles admitted with a grin. "It's alright though, my friends are used to it by now."

"If only I were so lucky," she replied just as the PT came into the room.

"Okay, Mr…uh…" the PT looked down at the sheet in his hands, and Stiles recognized the perplexed look adorning the man's face, he was trying to figure out his first name.

"You can just call me Stiles," he said quickly, avoiding the situation. Birth name in front of a pretty girl? Nope, not today, or ever, thanks.

"Okay Stiles, go ahead and explain what happened," he said as he took the stool that Jamie had vacated. Stiles retold the story, pointing out the areas where he had pain, describing how he felt he couldn't walk right and felt crooked. The man nodded, going along with Stiles and his elaborate hand gestures and verbose story-telling (which were really more for Jamie's benefit than the therapist's), until finally he stopped him halfway through a sentence, "I'm just going to check a few things and we'll see if we can't straighten you out some."

"Sounds good, Doc," Stiles said, trying to be nonchalant (but when had Stiles and that descriptor ever coexisted, really?). The therapist had him lay on his back, pulled up his shirt and started feeling his hip bones. Stiles kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying to once again appear composed. That plan started failing when the therapist then moved on to feeling his pubic bone. Though there was no inappropriate touching, he still felt like his ears had turned into small space heaters fueled by his embarrassment. The therapist had him flip over, feeling his lower back and - gasp - his butt bones before finishing his assessment.

"Your hip bone slipped away from your sacrum when you fell," he explained as Stiles rolled back over onto his back.

"Awesome. That sounds wonderful," Stiles muttered sarcastically, the embarrassment from the situation adding to his pain.

"What's wonderful? You okay?" Scott asked as he walked into the room, tracking in mud. Practice must have finished while Stiles waited here.

"He'll be fine in just a moment," the therapist replied calmly.

"My pelvis is broken," Stiles said, sighing dramatically and tossing an arm over his eyes for added flair.

"Not broken, just a little out of place," Jamie jumped in, trying to be encouraging. Stiles appreciated the effort, but his pride was still stinging a little from the assessment.

"I'll actually need your help to put it back in," the therapist said to Scott. "I don't think Jamie here is big enough to hold him down."

"What?!" Stiles said, whipping him arm away from his widened eyes. He tried to jump up off the table before realizing that his back still hurt a lot.

"Jamie, go grab an ice pack for afterwards, would you please?" the therapist requested blandly, ignoring Stiles' outburst. Jamie nodded, her blonde ponytail swinging as she walked to the other side of the little clinic. The therapist had Scott lay across Stiles' torso, effectively holding him down.

"Now, it may take a few pulls, but you will feel much better afterwards," he assured whilst grabbing the injured boy's ankle and pulling his leg out to the side.

"I'm not so sure that - HEY!" Without warning, the therapist jerked his leg, sending a shooting pain through his back. Without waiting for another outburst (Scott was smirking like he was enjoying this), the therapist jerked again. The third time, a loud pop echoed through the room, and suddenly most of the pain was gone. Stiles let out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing down onto the table.

"Well played, Doc. Well played indeed," he murmured.

"One more thing. Push into my hands," the therapist instructed, pulling his knees up and putting his hands on the outside of them. Stiles gave him an odd look, but complied. He then moved his hands to the inside of his knees. "Okay, don't let me pull your knees apart."

If Stiles had known that his pubic bone was going to pop back into place with the sound like a shotgun he would have just lived the rest of his life with it off set, thank you very much.

He let out a few choice words, shamelessly grabbing himself in surprise. Scott, being the wonderful and loyal friend that he was, was leaning against the wall laughing hysterically at his best friend's pain. Even Jamie was trying to hide her giggles as she had him turn over onto his stomach, laying an ice pack across his back.

"I think I'm dying," he muttered into the mat, his voice muffled.

"Oh you're fine. Trust me, it's better to pop it back in now than wait," Jamie said, gently patting his shoulder a couple times. He heard rustling beside him, and turned to see the girl packing up her stuff.

"You're leaving me here to wallow? And here I thought we had a connection," Stiles said cheekily. Scott raised an eyebrow - that was a pitiful attempt at a flirtation.

"Sorry, good sir, but since you all are off the field, it's our turn now," she replied with a smile, grabbing a pair of cleats from the floor.

"Soccer?" Scott asked, slowly realizing why she looked familiar.

"Yessir!" she replied, pulling out a knee brace before standing up.

"Then I guess we'll be seeing you again on Thursday," Scott said.

"Oh _yes_, I simply can't wait to share a bus with all you sweaty, smelly, lacrosse guys," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"And I'm sure a bunch of soccer girls smell like a field of flowers," Stiles retorted with a brazen grin.

"But of course!" she said with a smile. "See you guys later." And with a wave, she was out the door.

"DUDE WHAT?!" Stiles exploded as soon as the door closed. "Since when were we sharing the bus with the soccer girls on Thursday?"

"Since Coach told us at the end of practice today. Apparently Beacon Hills High has a shortage of buses," Scott said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Imagine that," Stiles replied scornfully. "But hey, now we can try and get in with the girls' soccer team, hey-o!" he added, throwing up his hand for a high five. Scott rolled his eyes and smiled, slapping his hand against Stiles'. "Follow up question, when did Jamie Grant get so hot?"

"Like two years ago, dude."

"How did I miss this?!"

"You were busy being obsessed with Lydia," Scott said dully, giving him a pointed look.

"That accursed siren," Stiles bristled without any heat, shaking his head. See, this was good! He could make fun of his heartbreak now!

"Stiles, you're done. Free to go," the therapist called from across the clinic, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Awesome, let's hit the road," he said, sliding off the table and grabbing his gear. The two guys went through the halls to the locker room while Scott filled Stiles in on what had happened during the rest of practice. Apparently there were a couple new players that were brought up from JV that had a lot of talent, upping their chances for doing well in district.

"See, I'm telling you, this year is going to be different. Things are finally looking up for us, Scotty-boy," Stiles said, clapping a hand on Scott's shoulder as they exited the school building. As they walked towards the parking lot, they could see the soccer girls running drills under the stadium lights of the field.

"Maybe," Scott relented, grinning at his best friend. They parted ways at the parking lot, Stiles heading home in his Jeep and Scott on his motor bike.

The evening held nothing for Stiles except homework and video games - no dangerous outings, no life threatening events, no _werewolves._ Stiles' phone was silent all night, and even though that would be depressing to any other teenager, he welcomed the silence. Silence meant no one was dying. Stiles went to bed calm and relaxed.

Then had a literal _rude_ awakening at 3 in the morning in the form of Derek standing over his bed (talk about a living nightmare).

"SHITFUCKDAMN!" Stiles yelped, flailing and falling out of the bed.

"Get up, Scott and Cora are downstairs," he said.

"Nice to see you too, Derek. It's been such a long month without you," Stiles grumbled sarcastically, standing up in as angry a manner as he could muster.

"Whatever. Tuck yourself back in and let's get going," Derek said with a look, turning towards the window. Stiles looked down to find his boxers had shifted in his sleep, leaving him…exposed.

"Oh, _sorry_ that my pajamas are making you uncomfortable. Since I was SLEEPING AND ALL!" he whisper-yelled at the werewolf as Derek jumped down from the window. Stiles continued muttering curses under his breath as he got dressed, getting down from his second story bedroom in the practiced manner. His back still tweaked in pain as he landed on the front yard, only serving to darken his mood further. Derek's tone wasn't urgent enough to implicate a dire emergency - in other words, nothing serious enough to have woken Stiles up.

"This better be good," he muttered as he got into the back seat of the Camaro next to Scott. Derek didn't answer, instead putting the car in drive and pulling out onto the road.

"Sorry," Scott said, with a truly apologetic look on his face.

"Scott only agreed to come if you did," Cora said from the passenger seat, sounding quite bored and tired herself. Stiles shot Scott a glare, but the werewolf just shrugged, the apologetic look still on his face.

"Bro. The fuck," he whispered. Scott gave him a pointed look, which Stiles interpreted to say, _We're brothers, remember?_ And Stiles did remember. After everything that had happened in the past year, he realized he might be more offended if Scott _didn't_ bring him along for whatever outrageous fiasco this was. He sighed, stiffening his resolve and looked forward to Derek and Cora.

"Okay, so what's going on that's so important you had to wake me up at the goddamn witching hour?" he asked. Maybe he was okay with coming along, but he was going to make sure they knew that this was ridiculous. The two Hales were silent in the front seat, which gave Stiles' mind more time to offer up wild speculations. "Wait, don't tell me it's _actually_ witches?!"

"Don't be stupid, witches aren't real," Cora snapped. Stiles rolled his eyes so hard he was sure that each werewolf could practically hear it.

"Yea, neither are werewolves or druids," he said, adding a little extra bite to his sarcasm.

"There are lights on at the Old House," Derek said brusquely. Silence filled the car once again.

"Like…your old house?" Stiles asked. He knew as soon as it came out of his mouth it was a stupid question, but he was still sleepy and didn't quite know how to ask for clarification in an intelligent manner.

"Yes. The one that is half burned down and hasn't been connected to electricity in six years." Cora said, picking at the nail polish adorning her short nails.

"Is it just a squatter or something?" Scott asked, assuming Derek and Cora would have looked into it before coming to get them.

"That's the thing," Derek said, turning the car onto the trail drive leading to the Hale house. "There was no smell of human. Or electricity. Or even fire," he explained.

"Well what kind of light was it? TV light, Northern lights…"

"It looked like someone was home," Derek said shortly, pulling the car to a stop in sight of the house. Just as he said, lights shone through the windows as if the whole Hale family was home. Stiles half expected to see shadows pass through the windows, telling tales of the people inside. But the light didn't seem quite right - it seemed hyper-realistic, too saturated. It immediately made Stiles nervous. Based on the way Scott tensed next to him, he wasn't the only one feeling weirded out. Derek and Cora immediately exited the vehicle, but Scott and Stiles stayed behind for a moment.

"Any ideas?" Scott asked quietly.

"Not a clue." Stiles responded. The two boys stiffened their resolve before getting out of the car too.

As they walked towards the house, the hairs on the back of his neck started standing up. Their steps slowed the closer they got, and Stiles could hear his heart pounding in his ears. They all stopped at the foot of the porch stairs, staring at the closed front door, still splintered from the past year of abuse. Looks passed between the four, each silently willing the other to go first. After a minute of silence, Cora huffed, trudging up the steps and pushed the door open without hesitancy.

"Cora, wait-" Scott said, him and Derek rushing in after her. Stiles, with a gulp, followed in last.

Cora stood in the entry way, looking towards what was once the living room - the room where Kate died, where Peter was brought back to life. The odd light fell on her face, making her skin glow with a peculiar energetic quality. There were no lamps or light bulbs that Stiles could see - no source for the light. The three wolves were looking into the living area with a look of awe on their face, making Stiles quicken his steps.

"What's everybody…" he rounded the corner, stopping mid stride and mid sentence.

Laura Hale sat in an old, charred chair next to the fireplace. She was in one piece again, sitting bent forward with her elbows resting on her knees. Her eyes were downcast, her legs bouncing with nervous energy. Stiles immediately knew that this was not how she would have been in life - nervous did not describe any of the Hales. She looked real, but not alive - her body seemed to be overly imbibed with the light, shining with the odd hyper-realistic manner of the house. It was as if they were seeing her through the hazy glow of a memory.

"Laura?" Cora asked, her voice quivering so slightly that Stiles could just barely pick it up, while the other wolves heard her clear as a bell. The elder Hale's eyes snapped up, the colors of the irises flat and stone-like.

"Cora. Derek," she said, her eyes sliding over to her brother. Her eyes continued to Scott and Stiles, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I don't know you."

"Laura, what's going on?" Derek said, his tone sounding less like a question and more like a demand. Laura's eyes flitted around the room, unable to focus on a single point for more than a moment.

"I…I'm dead," she said, as if realizing it for the first time. Derek and Cora both buckled a little bit, as if they had been punched in the gut. Derek swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Yes, you are," he replied, not knowing exactly what to say to the proclamation. Laura's eyes snapped to his, suddenly shining in a more corporeal fashion.

"I…I watched as my body was cut in half…" her gaze once again fell to the floor, the fire gone from her eyes. "I wasn't ready to leave yet. I had so much left to do, I had to protect you…" She was suddenly standing up, though Stiles didn't remember seeing her actually go through the motion. She was suddenly in front of Derek, though he didn't quite see her walk over there. She reached a hand out, inches away from Derek's face, and held it there without touching him. "I couldn't protect you. I abandoned you. I'm so sorry."

With this statement, her face seemed to crack, as if she was unable to cry in this in-between state in the middle of life and death. Derek gulped again, and Stiles was willing to bet anything that his heart was racing right now.

"You didn't abandon us," he said quietly. "The Argent that burned the house is dead now. I took care of your killer. You've been avenged. You can move on, to the afterworld or whatever it is." He had a pained look on his face as he said this, and Stiles could understand why. If this was his mother standing in front of him, he wouldn't want to tell her to move on either.

"Kate's dead?" Laura asked, confusion painted on her features. The light flickered mildly, then seemed to brighten. The fire behind her dead eyes returned. "Yes, I remember, Uncle Peter-" she stopped, and the light flickered again. She was suddenly standing in the middle of the room, facing the fireplace and the hole where Peter had returned. "You can't trust Uncle Peter." she said darkly.

"I know, but I took his alpha powers away from him-" Derek said, taking a step towards her. All at once she was in front of him, hair blowing in an imaginary breeze (or was it from her movement?). The energy that seemed to be coloring her skin intensified, and the light around her dimmed and flickered.

"Don't trust Peter. You can't trust Peter," she said, her voice cracking. Before Derek could reply, she was back sitting in the chair, knees pulled up to her chest. The lights flickered more, making the scene look like it was skipping on a DVD.

"Laura-" Derek took a few steps toward her before seemingly hitting an invisible wall, staggering backward onto the floor. Everything turned grey, the light from the moon the only thing illuminating the dark. Laura's form dimmed as she appeared to retreat into herself, still muttering not to trust Peter. Her eyes were unfocused, her skin fading, until nothing was left in front of them except the charred remains of the Hale living room.

There was a pregnant pause as everyone tried to soak in what exactly had just happened, what they just witnessed. Derek stood, staring at the place where Laura just was. Cora was slowly scanning the room, looking for answers, and Scott looked like he was listening with all his might, trying to hear anything that would lead them to answers. Stiles found the silence deafening. He opened his mouth to speak, though he had no words prepared. Derek's head snapped around, his eyes boring into Stiles'.

"Shut up," he said darkly, turning on his heel and striding out of the house. Cora ran after her brother, trying to catch up with him. Stiles turned to Scott.

"Even _I_ didn't have anything to say," he said quietly, even though he knew Derek would hear him.

"I don't think our quiet life is turning out like we thought it would," Scott murmured, and Stiles was glad that he was also adopting the dark-humor-apathetic-pretend-it's-not-real approach. The sound of an engine kicking to life broke the silence, the crunching of forest floor following it and fading away as Derek gunned the gas.

"We just got left here, didn't we?" Stiles asked, though his tone didn't relay that he was at all surprised by the turn of events.

"Yep," Scott replied shortly, obviously peeved, but not surprised either. Stiles let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands before shaking his head.

"Classic," he said, laughing sardonically. With meeting eyes and a quick nod, there was a silent accordance that whatever the hell had just happened would be discussed in the morning, once everything properly sunk in. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, and the two boys began their trek home.

Stiles climbed back through his window, and promptly collapsed onto his bed in a heap. The clock read some time past 4:00, though he was too lazy to actually tell the time. His heart was heavy, and for the first time he really felt the darkness around his heart that Deaton had talked about. Couldn't they just get a little bit of peace? Just one semester where they didn't have to worry about anything supernatural? Stiles was suddenly very angry with the universe for screwing them over like it did, but resisted the urge to scream out. He forced himself to calm down, and rolled over onto his back, falling asleep still in his clothes.

When his alarm went off at 6:00 Stiles was not having it. It wasn't until his dad came in at 7:00 that he actually got up to go to school, running in a flurry of activity. The midnight adventure had taken its toll on him, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But he redirected his anger from last night into motivation - whatever was going on at the Hale house, he was going to figure that nonsense out and get it taken care of. He ran out the door, barely remembering to grab his keys and backpack, and hustled to school - only to find that he was still 30 minutes early for class. The morning was still semi-dark, with thick clouds lining the sky. It was sure to rain today.

Stiles leaned against his steering wheel, letting his eyes fall closed for just a minute. His mind was whirring, trying to develop a plan of action - they needed to fill in Isaac and Allison for sure, plus probably talk to Derek and Cora again to see if this was some kind of werewolf sorcery. Then it would be time to hit the internet and its great wealth of information. And porn. What? Stiles shook his head, trying to turn his mind away from whatever dark, dirty road it was trying to go down.

A car door slammed to his left, effectively startling him and making him flail in surprise, nearly laying down on the horn in the process. He really needed to learn to not let himself get so deep in his thoughts. He looked to find a (now) familiar blonde head, and Jamie's face colored with concern. She gave him a thumbs up, mouthing, "Are you okay?" Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, opening his door and hopping out.

"Rough morning?" she asked with a wry grin.

"The roughest," he replied, leaning against the Jeep.

"Cheer up, buttercup, it's a beautiful day!" she said with fake cheeriness. He perked an eyebrow, looking up at the dark sky. "Okay, so it actually sucks and I just really want to go back to bed," she amended.

"That would be wonderful," Stiles agreed, eyes still skyward.

"Going to bed with me? Stiles, I didn't think you were so forward," she said, eyes wide. Stiles' heart jumped and he snapped his eyes down to hers.

"No no no! I didn't mean that at all! I mean, I'm sure that you are very admirable and - um - but you know, that's not what I meant and - I'm just really tired and - and you're laughing at me," he rambled quickly.

"Sorry, that was just an even better reaction than I thought it was going to be," she said, trying to quell her giggles. Stiles groaned, leaning against his Jeep and his heart rate slowed. Damn girls! His stomach chose that moment to loudly groan in response.

"Hungry?" Jamie asked. She could hear that?

"Dying," he replied. "I hear that Snickers is the breakfast of champions though, so I'll hit up that vending machine."

"I have a muffin!" she exclaimed, rummaging around in her backpack. And add another point to the dirty thought list.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly - is that bad boy cinnamon streusel?" his stomach growled again.

"Hell yea it is," she said, extending the delectable treat out to him.

"Are you sure? Cause that's a prime muffin right there."

"I'm positive. I already had three this morning, I think I can spare this one."

"That's an intense amount of muffin," Stiles said, impressed. He slowly took the muffin from her hand, trying not to devour it, paper cup and all, like he hadn't eaten in days (even though that's what it felt like).

"How's your back, by the way?" she asked, zipping up her backpack. Stiles, mouth full of muffin, made an effort to respond. Jamie gave him a look. "English?"

With a loud gulp he swallowed the bite in his mouth. "Sorry. It's feeling much better today, just a little sore."

"Good!" she said with a smile, and she seemed genuinely glad about it. For the first time in a long time, Stiles didn't compare her smile to Lydia's. That smile quickly dropped when a huge clap of thunder rumbled across the sky. She grabbed onto Stiles' plaid sleeve, eyes huge.

"You okay?" he asked, brows drawn together in concern.

"I don't like thunderstorms," she said, looking like she was trying to laugh off the situation even though she looked truly terrified. Stiles knew the feeling well. Another clap of thunder rolled through the air, causing Jamie to yelp and close her eyes.

"It's cool girl, it's just some air rushing back together or something," Stiles said, rubbing her shoulder in as comforting a manner as he could.

"Augh, I know but it's just so chaotic and scary," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. The blush on her cheeks told him that this action was more for her embarrassment than fear of the thunder. Before Stiles could continue to try and make her feel better, a massive drop of rain plopped onto his face. Then a few fell on Jamie's face. Her eyes snapped open, presenting Stiles with the sheer panic of a girl who had actually taken time to do something to her hair on the one day it rains.

"Run!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, grabbing her arm and sprinting toward the school building as the sky released a deluge upon them. They ran as fast a two gangly teenagers with heavy backpacks could go, seeking refuge from the downpour. They slammed into the doors, sliding around on the slick linoleum, laughing and trying not to fall down.

"I blame you for this!" she exclaimed, wringing out her hair.

"Me? It's you and your muffin's fault!" Stiles retorted, shaking in such a dog-like manner that Scott would have been proud. Jamie bit her lip, giving him a mischievous look. "Oh, come on, don't do that to me."

"Sorry! I can't help it that I have the humor of a thirteen year old boy," she said, laughing at her own unspoken joke. Stiles rolled his eyes, smiling. He had to be amused, as he was quite literally a teenage boy.

"Whatever, I see how dirty your mind is now," he replied, patting her on the shoulder and turning her to start walking down the hall to their lockers.

"Oh come on, like the thought never occurred to you," she said with a suspicious look on her face. "I have an older brother, I know how you fools think!"

"You know nothing!" Stiles joked, stopping at his locker.

"I know everything," she said, eyes wide as if she was looking at a crystal ball.

"Oh god I hope not," he said quickly, faux panic gracing his features. She gave him a thoughtful look and a wink.

"See you in history," she sang, turning and walking off toward her own locker. Stiles paused, watching as she walked away. Remember how he was a teenage boy?

"Dude, what was that all about?" Scott asked, causing Stiles to startle and flail for the second time that morning. Scott laughed as Stiles got his heart rate to slow, punching the teen wolf.

"I don't know, but I don't hate it," Stiles said, making an excited face and holding his hand up for a high five.

"Weirdo," Scott muttered, brushing past him.

"Why you gotta hate, bro?" Stiles called after him, holding his arms out. Then the warning bell rang, and Stiles in turn sprinted after Scott to their class. He hustled past Allison and Isaac to his seat at the back of the room, remembering with a jolt all that had happened the night before. And by the looks on their faces, they knew something was up too.

* * *

GHOSTS oh snap! Hope y'all liked it, please feel free to leave a review! :)

-XM


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, so not too many reviews for the last chapter (as in, only one), but that's ok! There were some favorites and follows, which is awesome! I hope y'all like this chapter!

**Chapter 2: If Only It Were That Easy**

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"So let me get this straight," Allison whispered over her lunch. "Derek arrived in the middle of the night last night to take you to see Laura Hale's ghost?"

"Ok, so maybe that's what it sounded like, but-" Stiles struggled for words (for once).

"There was something more to it. There was this weird energy all around," Scott added.

"Sounds kind of freaky," Isaac said, eyes wide as he looked at Scott and Stiles.

"Was it maybe just an illusion? Or a dream or something?" Allison offered.

"Ah, yes, because Scott and I share dreams often," Stiles replied, keeping his sarcasm as soft as possible.

"No need to get snippy," Allison said, giving him a partially wounded, half unimpressed look. Well, guess he didn't soften it enough.

"Sorry, it's been a weird 24 hours," Stiles said, shaking his head as if to knock the loose parts back in.

"What did Derek say about it?" Isaac asked. Stiles idly wondered if he was in any way upset Derek didn't come find him for last night's little romp around town.

"That's the thing, he didn't say anything. He just left," Scott said, tossing his hands up in confusion.

"Left us there, I might add. Rather rude and inconsiderate," Stiles added, crossing his arms with a huff of annoyance. Walking the four miles back to town at 4 in the morning was not his idea of fun.

"Well, we have to go back to the house. We have to see what's there," Isaac said in a decisive tone.

"We were planning on going after practice tonight," Scott said with a nod. "Just straight from here."

Isaac had a cynical smile on his face as he looked down at his food. "If we even go to practice," he muttered with a dark chuckle.

"If? You're not playing anymore?" Stiles asked. Isaac, especially with his wolfy powers, was quite valuable to the team.

"I mean, after everything we've been through with the alphas and the darach…" he paused, trying to find the words. "It just feels weird going back to school and playing lacrosse and doing normal things."

His three companions were quiet for a moment, silently agreeing with him.

"Maybe that's what we need," Allison murmured, more to her chicken strips than to him. "A little bit of normalcy."

"Besides, now things are getting weird again, so there's that to look forward to," Stiles said with a grin, taking a large bite of a chicken strip.

Isaac laughed again, this time a little less sarcastically. "There is that, I guess," he agreed, returning to his food.

"How's Lydia?" Scott asked, making Stiles glance across the courtyard where the red head was sitting with Aiden, Danny, Ethan, and a few others in the 'popular' crowd. She still talked to Allison quite a bit, but tended to avoid the guys in an effort to rid her life of 'lunatic supernatural shit'. Stiles couldn't blame her - sometimes, being involved with the supernatural sucked - but that didn't mean there wasn't a blaring empty spot with her name on it in their group. He was proud to say, though, that he hadn't secretly looked over toward her the entire lunch period.

"She's good," Allison said with a smile. "Sleeping better now. Doesn't have the nightmares anymore."

"Or a creepy werewolf showing up in her bedroom at 3 in the morning?" Stiles asked, chuckling at his own private joke.

"No, no more of that," Allison said with a sad smile. "She's fighting tooth and nail to get her sense of normalcy back. Homecoming's in a few weeks, you know. She's got a campaign to run for queen."

"Ah, the problems of the rich and beautiful," Stiles said with a fake, wistful sigh to the sun. Suddenly Isaac's apathy towards lacrosse was a little more understandable. Again, he could feel that darkness creeping from around his heart. He could feel it moving slowly into his chest cavity, threatening to spread through his whole body. With a decisive shake of his head, he pushed it back down. "Do we even know the theme yet?"

"Do you even have a date?" Scott asked. Stiles would be offended, except he could see in Scott's facial expression, and even Allison's, that they were all encountering the same problem. Isaac laughed at Scott's joke, blissfully unaware.

"I've got like, a month. Plenty time to find the gorgeous lady that will be lucky enough to accompany me to the dance," Stiles retorted, waving them off. "After all, I've got a million prospects of girls at this school that _love_ me."

"I don't count," Allison interjected.

"You love me?" Stiles asked, surprised, joyous and wide eyed.

"Eh, kind of," she replied with a short shrug, a glint in her eye.

"And that's one!" Stiles said, holding his hand up for a high five from Scott. Scott, like a true best friend, just looked at his hand and laughed before turning back to his lunch.

"Half of one, considering she's already got a date to the dance," Isaac pointed out.

"Oh, I do now?" Allison asked with a wry smile. "No one's asked me."

"I mean I thought - I assumed…" Isaac stuttered, making the girl laugh.

"You know what they say about assuming," she replied. Stiles looked at Scott out of the corner of his eye, seeing how he was faring with this new relationship. To his credit, the smile pasted on his face seemed almost real - real enough to people who weren't paying him much attention. Luckily, the poor boy was saved from further torture by the warning bell signaling the end of lunch. Scott heaved a sigh of relief, getting up and grabbing his backpack. The other three followed in suit; Stiles shoved a last few bites into his mouth real quick.

"So see you at practice?" Scott asked Isaac with a hopeful smile.

"Yea, I guess I'll be there," Isaac replied, also with a grin. He waved goodbye and tossed an arm around Allison as they made their way to their next class, leaving Scott and Stiles to head to English.

"It was going so well," Scott muttered.

"I know, buddy. I know," Stiles said, clapping his friend on the shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "But I just want you to think about all the cute soccer girls we get to share the bus with tomorrow."

"I think that's more what _you_ want to think about," Scott said, elbowing Stiles in the ribs.

"Well fine, I'll think about it enough for the both of us," Stiles retorted.

"Ew," Scott took a step away from him.

"What? Oh come on, there was absolutely no lewdness involved in that comment."

"Not yet. But I know how fast your mind moves and how it gets really dirty, really quickly."

"That's rude and hurtful. I am nothing but a pure and innocent flower."

"Not by choice," Scott murmured, looking at his best friend with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Stiles' jaw dropped in shock.

"That was completely uncalled for," he said, his voice jumping up an octave in shock. "Scott McCall, that was mean and underhanded and malicious... I'm so proud of you."

"Yea, one of these days my sarcasm may catch up with yours," the teen wolf replied, punching Stiles affectionately in the shoulder.

"Oh you have much to learn before you reach my level, young padawan," Stiles replied with a smile, sliding into his seat.

"For the love of God do not start that Star Wars stuff again," Scott said, rolling his eyes as they ducked into the English room..

"I will start 'that Star Wars stuff again' if I damn well please, thank you _very_ much!" Stiles exclaimed, only slightly offended.

"Stilinski!" Mrs. Merle, the new (ancient) English teacher snapped. "Shut your mouth."

"Sorry," Stiles said, shooting a good-natured glare over to Scott. The old woman shuffled around the room, handing out copies of _A Collection of Edgar Allen Poe_.

"Now that Mr. Stilinski has graced us with his silence," the lady shot another sharp look to Stiles. "What say we turn to page 24, the poem entitled _The Raven._"

The bad thing about block scheduling was that long, boring classes lasted forever. The good thing about them was that classes with cute blonde girls also lasted forever.

Stiles had known there was a blonde girl at the back of the room in his history class, but after being assigned to the front row, had no idea the name or face of anyone in the class with him. But today was the blessed day when seating arrangements were being changed. The front row moved to the second row, and that pattern continued until the back row, which moved to the front. As in, his new found (cute) friend Jamie Grant would now be sitting one row in front of him and slightly to the left.

Ah, yes. Twas a good day indeed.

That night, right after practice, Scott, Isaac, Stiles, and Allison made their way up to the old Hale house. They hadn't heard anything from Derek since the night before, and assumed that he would either be at the old house or hiding somewhere in the depths of Beacon Hills until he figured out what was going on. Stiles made a mental note to tell Scott that he should ask Dr. Deaton about the appearance of Laura Hale, especially if she made another guest appearance in the land of the living tonight.

The house was dark when they arrived. There was no sign of Derek or Cora - or Laura for that matter. It was dark and dusty, just as it had been for the past six years. No strange lights cast an eerie glow, no victims of the past waited for their arrival.

"It's quiet," Isaac said.

"Too quiet," Stiles added, making the other three look at him. "Oh, come on, it was perfect and you know it."

"Is this where you saw her?" Isaac continued, effectively ignoring Stiles' comment.

"Yea, we came in and she was sitting on that chair," Scott said, following his fellow wolf into the living room. Allison wandered in the opposite direction to the kitchen, leaving Stiles awkwardly in the middle trying to decide where to go. He eventually decided to try and go up the stairs (slowly), to see if there was any sign of anything up there.

The second landing was even more quiet than the first, especially since Isaac and Scott's voices were muffled by the walls. Each time a floorboard creaked, it seemed so loud that Stiles' eardrums were sure to burst. He took small steps over the landing, finally arriving at a door and gently pushed it open. The hinges screamed in protest, their movement being forced for the first time since the fire. The last rays of daylight crept through the charred blinds, giving the burnt room a grayish tint. Stiles saw nothing but the remains of a burned bedroom - the bed frame blackened, the mattress and sheets turned to ash. Corners of posters, barely survived with their tacks in the wall, hanging on the wall as a long forgotten memory. Stiles wondered if this was Cora's room, or Derek's, or maybe even Laura's.

He left that door open, not wanting it to disrupt the tense silence that filled the house. He crossed to the other side of the landing, spotting a door that was half burned, giving him a way to get in without having to force hinges again. A large room opened up in front of him as he shuffled under the remaining door - this would have been the master bedroom. Talia's room.

Unlike the other bedroom, there were no remains in this one. Nothing here that showed someone had lived here, slept here, died here. Instead of a king size bed, there were six concentric circles, all outlined in a suspicious dark substance. Three strange symbols were around the outermost circle, leaving a space towards the south.

"Guys?" Stiles called, though not terribly loud. He knew Scott and Isaac would hear him, regardless if he shouted or not. "You might want to come see this." Sure enough, a moment later the two wolves (and Allison) shimmied through the broken doorway. The looks on their faces mirrored the confusion that Stiles felt.

"What is this?" Isaac asked.

"Some kind of enchantment," Allison replied, though it sounded more like a question than a sure response.

"Have you seen this before?" Scott asked, his tone giving away that he wasn't as calm as he appeared.

"No, but…there's something familiar about it," she replied.

"Okay, real first question, is that blood?" Stiles interjected, trying to control his voice. Scott and Isaac went close to it, attempting to smell it without touching it.

"If it is, it was put here a long time ago," Isaac said. "Doesn't smell the same."

"There's some sort of life force in it, but…I don't think it's blood," Scott agreed.

"Cool. So just some weird voodoo witchcraft shit. Awesome," Stiles said, running a hand through his hair before putting his hands on his waist. His legs felt jittery - the kind of jittery that usually happened when he accidentally doubled up on his Adderall some mornings.

"Some sort of wolf incantation?" Allison asked. Scott and Isaac looked at each other before looking back to her, both shrugging in response.

"We're not exactly well versed in the deep dark traditions of wolf lore," Scott said. "That's a Derek question."

"Yea, and he's not answering his phone." Isaac added, slipping his cell back into his pocket.

"Or it could be a Deaton question," Stiles pointed out, inwardly proud of himself for remembering to mention it.

"Good point, I'll ask him on Friday when I go to work," Scott said. "Until then…well, I'm honestly not sure what else we can do here."

"Here, hold on," Stiles said, drawing his phone out of his pocket and taking a picture of the strange mark. He sent the picture to Scott. "There, now you'll have a reference for him."

"Perfect," Scott said, checking to make sure he received it.

"And until Friday?" Allison asked. The guys looked to each other again, unsure of an answer.

"I guess look through your dad's books, see if there's anything in there about this," Stiles filled in the silence with the only plan he could think of. Apparently it was a reasonable response, as Allison agreed to question her father. Silence reclaimed the room, settling like a shroud over them. Stiles stared at the strange mark on the ground that may or may not have been made with blood, looking at it until the circles seemed to move and shift in his vision.

"Let's get out of here," Scott said, as if reading his best friend's mind. "Mom wanted me home by seven."

"And I would hate to see your mother angry," Stiles agreed, having witness the wrath of Mama McCall more than once. With that, the teens exited the room, still vigilantly looking for any sign of Laura Hale. The only response they got that night was silence.

The next day was clear and sunny, with just enough chill in the air to warn of the nearing autumn. Stiles and Scott, stationed at the back of the bus, were enjoying both the sun outside and the view of the soccer girls towards the front of the bus. Those less-than-socially-acceptable men of the lacrosse team were being tormented by some of the girls in the name of 'flirting', and it was such a train wreck that Stiles watched it like a bad Discovery Channel documentary.

"So I think Greenburg just got kicked in the balls by the goalie," Stiles said, not even trying to hide his laughter as the large man fell onto a couple other unsuspecting soccer girls.

"Did he deserve it?" Scott asked, looking away from the window. Both of them had their English homework open in front of them, but neither one of them were actually working on it.

"Probably. I can't really tell. It's like the program is in another language, and the volume is down really low," Stiles said, squinting his eyes toward the front of the bus. "And the TV is really small."

"And multiple channels?" Scott added.

"Okay seriously though, I feel like I need the TV stuff with the multiple channels. Maybe if I can watch two shows at once, I'll actually focus on at least half of both of them."

"Half of two shows is practically a whole show," Scott reasoned.

"Right? See, it makes perfect sense," Stiles said emphatically.

"What makes perfect sense?" came a girl's voice. Stiles looked up to see Jamie swaying in the aisle, a book and headphones in her hand.

"If I watch two TV shows at one time, and pay attention to half of each of them, then that means I've basically focused on one whole show," Stiles explained, trying to stretch his arm back on the seat coolly and narrowly avoiding smacking Scott in the face.

"Makes sense to me," Jamie said with a shrug. "By the way, mind if I join you two cool cats back here? It's getting a little raucous up there."

"Sure," Stiles said breezily, giving a grand gesture towards the seat next to them.

"Too close to the action up there?" Scott asked.

"Eh, once Greenburg - who is super sweaty, by the way - falls straight on you and makes your head hit the window you kind of get over the whole 'funny' part of the situation," she said with a grimace, absently rubbing a spot on her head as she settled into the empty seat.

"Shit, are you ok?" Stiles asked, concerned. She waved it off.

"I'm fine, no worries. Nothing worse than I've dealt with before," she replied, putting one headphone in and going back to her book. Stiles looked to Scott, panic in his eyes. How was he supposed to keep the pretty girl talking? Scott looked at him, confused. Stiles gave him a pointed look. Scott only looked more confused. Stiles sighed, waving his head around to try and gesture towards Jamie.

"Dude, I have no idea what's going on right now," Scott deadpanned.

"Ugh, you're the worst best friend ever," Stiles said, roughly settling back against the seat again. Meanwhile, Scott had to hid his grin. As big a deal Stiles had made about riding the bus with the whole soccer team, he seemed rather preoccupied with just one of the players. Stiles stared at the ceiling, wracking his brain for something, anything to keep a conversation with the girl across the aisle from him. His musings were interrupted by Scott (rather brutally) elbowing him. Stiles flailed just a little bit before turning to him.

"What?" he hissed.

"Look at her book," he whispered, ignoring Stiles' attitude. Stiles looked over as discreetly as possible (as in not discreetly at all) to see that the book Jamie was reading had one of the symbols they had seen last night emblazed across the front. He looked to Scott, whose eyes were just as wide as his. He turned back to the girl, taking a deep breath and willing himself to keep his cool.

"Hey, Jamie, what are you reading?" he asked casually. She pulled her headphone out, closing the book and looking at the front herself.

"Oh, it's um…it's kind of nerdy," she said sheepishly.

"Please, I've spent more hours on XBox 360 than I would ever admit to you," Stiles said. "You can talk nerdy to me, in fact, I'd prefer it."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," she said with a grin, making Scott chuckle for a moment as he pretended to focus on his English homework. Could he contribute to this conversation? Maybe, but he was going to let his boy do his work. "Anyway, it's a whole series about how Beacon Hills is some, like, supernatural hub or something."

Stiles' blood ran cold, and he made himself not look at Scott so nothing would be suspicious. "No way? How so?"

"Not completely sure, this is the first one in the series. Although apparently there used to be a coven who lived here, back in the day. But when they moved here, there was also a pack of werewolves in that forest down south. I just started it though, so I don't know what happened between the two groups."

"So just witches and werewolves? Hmm, that's not too bad," Stiles said, his heart slowing down. After all, Cora said there was no such thing as witches.

"Oh yea, just two awesomely powerful supernatural beings, the usual," Jamie replied with a grin.

"I mean, hey, it could be worse. Could be three," he pointed out, thinking of Jackson's little stint as the kanima.

"Well I'm only two chapters in, so you never know. Maybe Beacon Hills is just full of supernatural activity," she said, eyes dancing at the thought.

"Do you think that stuff's real?" Stiles found himself asking. Jamie blushed, looking back down at the book.

"I mean, I wish I could say no, but…" she faltered for a moment. "I guess crazier things have happened."

Stiles' heart stopped for a moment. "What?" he asked.

"Well I know it's stupid, okay, I'm not like a crazy person going hunting for werewolves and stuff," she said, only a little bit defensively. "But the way the author is presenting this stuff, it seems kind of legit. Supposedly it's nonfiction...I don't know, sometimes I just like to let my imagination run wild," she added.

"Oh no, I'm not judging you or anything," Stiles said, waving his hands. Scott had to hold in a laugh at his wild gestures. "Trust me, I'm the last person who can talk when it comes to believing in random things. Until I was thirteen my dad had me believe that the ice cream truck only played the music when it was out of ice cream."

"Seriously?" Jamie asked, laughing.

"Seriously. I had a very dark and depressing childhood," Stiles sighed, only half joking.

"Oh, you poor, poor baby," Jamie coddled, not bothering to hide her laugh as she rubbed his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"I know. I'm just a tortured and damaged soul," he said, gazing into the wild blue yonder. Scott tried to choke his laughter down, which ultimately ended in him erupting into a fit of coughing.

"You gonna make it there, Scott?" Jamie asked, leaning forward to see if Scott was okay. Stiles quickly turned to Scott, roughly patting his back in order to help him clear his airway - as well as prevent himself from being distracted by the v-neck shirt Jamie was sporting that day. Scott finally stopped choking, took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat.

"Sorry, drink of water went down the wrong pipe," he said as an excuse.

"Hate when that happens," Stiles said, quite seriously. The bus suddenly lurched over a speed bump, announcing that they had arrived at their destination.

"Looks like we're here," Jamie said, gathering her stuff. "Thanks for letting me join you guys, good luck at your game!"

"You too!" Scott and Stiles said together as the girl made her way back up to the front of the bus. Scott didn't bother to hide his laughter now.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing. You're just funny," Scott replied.

"Duh. But usually I'm aware of what I did that makes you laugh."

"I just think it's funny that you were so excited to ride with the whole girls soccer team, yet you only talked to Jamie."

"Hey, I don't have to talk to them to enjoy their company," Stiles reasoned. "Besides, talking to Jamie has gotten us a lead on information for our current situation."

"With those books? I dunno, Stiles," Scott said, suspicious.

"Hey, you heard her. The author says they're nonfiction. And last I checked, even a fiction book masquerading as a nonfiction book about the supernatural aspect of Beacon Hills is more information than we have currently," Stiles defended, rather quickly.

"Did you double up on your Adderall again today?" Scott asked.

"No!" Stiles exclaimed defensively. He paused for a moment. "I did have a cup of coffee though."

"At least it was just one," Scott said, beginning to gather his things as the bus slowed to a stop. Stiles was silent, which was never a good sign. Scott turned back to his friend. "You did just have one cup, right?"

"Yeeaaa…um…it might have been one. It might have been three…" Stiles muttered, packing his things at record speed.

"Holy shit no wonder your heart's been at like a thousand beats a minute today," Scott said, standing up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Aw, you listen to my heart? How sweet," Stiles said, caressing Scott's cheek with the back of his hand. Scott slapped his hand away, but laughed nonetheless.

"You're the worst, have I ever told you that?" Scott said, shoving Stiles up the bus aisle.

"Yes, but you'll never get rid of me. It takes too long to break in a new best friend," Stiles said, following the other guys into the locker room to get ready for their game.

Two hours later, Stiles was battered and bruised, but victorious. He had actually scored a goal during the game, which was exciting, especially when the ending score was 7-6. It hadn't been the winning goal - he thought it was either the second or third - but still, if he hadn't scored, then they would have tied! And if Scott hadn't scored two, they would have lost!

"Stilinski!" Coach Finstock yelled as Stiles and Scott wandered over to the soccer field with the other guys.

"Yes, Coach?" Stiles said, whirling around and mentally preparing himself for battle.

"Not your worst game," Coach said, though it looked difficult for him to get the words out.

"Oh, uh…thanks, Coach," Stiles said, confused.

"Don't look at me like that. My anger management psychologist says that it's important to hand out more compliments or something like that. Apparently it's supposed to help the psyche become more positive or some nonsense," he explained in a rush, turning and stalking away.

"Duly noted, Coach," Stiles said, slowly turning back to Scott. "And the day just gets weirder."

"Hey, at least Coach gave you a compliment," Scott pointed out.

"For the first time ever! I'll have to write this down in my diary," Stiles said with a wistful sigh.

"You do that," Scott said with a grin as they stopped next to the bleachers at the sideline of the soccer field. There were fifteen minutes left in the game, and the bleachers were packed - the two boys were content to stand for the last bit. Stiles spotted Jamie on the opposite side of the field, stealing the ball from another girl before passing it to a tall brunette. The brunette girl, who looked a little lanky and uncoordinated, actually managed to dribble the ball past a few defenders before taking a shot. The ball flew wide, but it was a good run nonetheless.

"That was kind of impressive," Stiles muttered.

"Jamie or the forward?" Scott asked slyly.

"Either. Both," Stiles answered quickly, but after a few beats of silence he dropped his head, "Jamie."

"You seem a little smitten," Scott pointed out.

"No, I'm just trying to, you know, make friends with other girls. Maybe have some prospects now that Lydia is out of the picture."

"Is Lydia really out of the picture though?" Scott asked quietly. Stiles sighed heavily.

"Yea, yea I think she is," he said solemnly. "I mean, I'll always love her, but…I am not who she wants. And I just want her to be happy. So you know, I think it's time for me to be happy too," he explained, his voice lifting towards the end. He really was optimistic about looking for other girls.

"Well, I think that's a good idea," Scott said with a nod, watching as Jamie stole another ball, dribbled around a girl, and passed it to the same tall brunette. Once again, the lanky girl evaded a few defenders, but her shot went wide.

"You do?" Stiles asked. He had been a little concerned that Scott would discourage this 'branching out' thing, though he wasn't sure why he would think that.

"Yea. It's time the ladies got to have a go at the Stiles Stilinski Experience," Scott said with a grin. Stiles shoved him in response, but had to grin as well.

"The women of Beacon Hills have no idea what they're about to get," he said, puffing his chest out. Scott was silent, making Stiles deflate and look over to him. "What?"

But Scott wasn't looking at him, but rather past him to the tree line. "Do you see that?"

Stiles turned, looking to the tree line also. It was dark, so he couldn't see details, but he though he could see a small form at the edge, hiding behind one of the oaks. "Is that a kid?" he asked.

"Yea. A little girl," Scott said.

"Think she's lost or something?" Stiles asked, looking at the people around them. No one was noticing this little girl - they were all focused on the game.

"Probably. How many kids do you know that wander around a high school soccer field at night?" Scott said, slowly moving towards the girl. Stiles followed after him, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible (it wasn't incredibly difficult). The little girl, who looked to be about 5 or 6 years old, watched them as they walked towards her. It wasn't until they were about 10 feet away that she turned and sprinted into the trees. Stiles heaved a heavy sigh.

"Here we go."

They ducked into the forest, trying to avoid the low hanging branches that threatened to scratch their eyes. They could see the girl about fifty feet in front of them, but Stiles wasn't sure he remembered hearing her running across the crunchy leaf-covered ground. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and as he looked to Scott he could see that the young wolf was having the same hesitant feelings. The buzzer signaling the end of the game sounded from the stadium, but it seemed far away. The two guys followed the girl a little deeper into the trees, their steps seeming much too loud in the silence of the forest. They turned a tree - and were met with nothing but more trees. They paused, looking each direction to try and find her.

"You can see me?" came a small voice from behind them Scott and Stiles both startled and spun around, finding that the girl was standing right behind them. She had the same glowing, memory-like quality that Laura had, though with not as much energy behind it.

"Uh, um, yea," Scott said, ever so eloquent as Stiles attempted to slow his erratic heartbeat.

"Are you lost?" Stiles asked. The girl slowly shook her head 'no'.

"Is your mom nearby?" Scott asked, though it was becoming more and more clear that even if her mother was nearby, she would not be thinking to look for her. The girl once again shook her head 'no'.

"Mommy's in Bakersfield," she murmured. Suddenly she was behind them again, making them turn quickly to keep up with her movement. "She doesn't know I'm here."

"Is there someone we can call?" Scott asked. Suddenly, the girl was 10 feet away from them.

"Mommy doesn't know where I am," she said.

"Well, we can tell her," Stiles said, taking a step towards her. She moved another 20 feet back.

"But she doesn't know," she said. The image of the little girl faltered, then slowly faded away, leaving Scott and Stiles alone in the darkness of the trees.

"Fuck, dude," Stiles whispered, letting out a long breath.

"It was weird enough at Derek's house. Now this?" Scott said. "We have to look at those books. This is getting a little too weird now."

"Yea, yea let's do that," Stiles said, grabbing Scott's shoulder and pulling him back towards the high school. "I'll ask Jamie for the author on the way home," he added as they emerged from the trees.

"Stilinski! McCall! Where the hell were you two numb nuts?" Coach Finstock called, looking more flustered than usual.

"Sorry Coach, had to pee," Stiles said, jerking a thumb back towards the trees.

"Together?!" he asked, then held up his hands before Stiles could respond. "Nevermind, I don't want to know." He turned and walked towards the bus, leaving Scott and Stiles to grab their stuff and run after him. They climbed on the bus, pushing their way to the back. Jamie had already stationed herself in the other seat across from them.

"You win?" Stiles asked as they collapsed into the seat.

"Yea! 1-0. You guys?" she replied with a smile.

"7-6!" Stiles replied.

"Stiles scored a goal," Scott added with a grin.

"Nice!" Jamie replied holding a hand up for a high five and smacking Stiles' harder than he anticipated. Good high fives? Yes please.

"I mean, it wasn't that big a deal. Scott scored two," Stiles said, suddenly a little embarrassed.

"Yea, but it would've been a tie without yours," Scott pointed out. Stiles gave him a look. Was Scott, dare he say it, being a wing man?!

"Regardless, you both scored, and you're both awesome," Jamie said, tipping her imaginary hat to them.

"Thank you, madame," Stiles said with a flourish, trying to recover some of his game. "Did you score the one to win?"

"Me? No. I'm a midfielder. I don't usually score that often," she said with a laugh. "Bri's the one who scored. Although I did pass it to her, so that's like half a goal, right?"

"I'd count it," Stiles replied, Scott nodding in agreement.

"Well thanks, guys. That brings my goal count for the season up to one and a half!" she said, throwing her fist in the air in celebration.

"A very respectable number, I would say," Stiles said encouragingly. She smiled brightly back at him, letting her head fall back against the seat and rest there for a moment. Stiles allowed the conversation to lull into a comfortable silence, not wanting to try and force anything. His coffee from earlier had worn off, leaving him with nothing but the caffeine crash. Scott next to him seemed to fall asleep, his head on the window and the bus drove along the dark, smooth road. After an hour of silence, a soft crinkling alerted Stiles to movement from the seat across from him. He looked over to see Jamie taking a (large) bite of a cookies, stopping mid-motion to look at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She paused awkwardly before holding a sandwich bag with mini cookies in it.

"Cookie?" she asked, though it wasn't as understandable given the sugary confection in her mouth.

"Uh, sure. Thanks," Stiles said, more surprised than anything. "Do you just constantly carry baked goods around with you?" he asked, popping a cookie into his mouth and effectively devouring it.

"I mean…maybe," she replied with a shifty look in her eye. "I just get hungry a lot okay? Don't judge me! There's a lot of running involved in my life."

"Did it make your legs hollow or something?" Stiles joked, taking another cookie when she offered.

"You know, I think so. That's how science works, right?" she asked, eating another cookie herself.

"Definitely. That makes complete sense to me," he responded.

"But seriously, I've always got a secret stash of food, so if you ever forget your lunch money…" she gave him a wink and clicked her tongue. "Ye olde kitchen du Jamie always has something to hold you over."

"Good to know. Except now I'm just going to steal your backpack and take all your delicious treats."

"Jokes on you, only half of them are in my backpack!"

"Well then I'll break into your locker and steal the other half," Stiles retorted, giving her a rather sassy look. She gasped dramatically.

"You wouldn't dare," she said lowly.

"Oh, I just might. Given that I now know, thanks to the previous two treats I have had from you, that you pack really delicious treats, I would start putting a lock on your stashes."

"But there's already a lock on my locker," she pointed out.

"Well, double up then," he said, reaching across the aisle and patting her knee in a comforting manner.

"Or you could also just, you know, ask," she pointed out, handing him the last cookie in the bag.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he questioned. Jamie raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"Good point," she said, putting the empty sandwich bag into the pocket of her athletic bag. "Although my mom is making some awesome breakfast tacos in the morning. Want me to bring you one?"

"Do you really think I'm gonna say no to a free breakfast taco?" Stiles asked, giving her a stunned look.

"I mean, I love food, and I assumed you also loved food, but I wasn't going to force the food upon you."

"Girl, you can force food upon me whenever you so desire. But I don't want to take your food away from you," he replied. She waved him off.

"If you don't eat the food, then I will eat the food. And if I eat the food, then I will become fat. And if I become fat, then I will die alone eating my feelings with a hundred cats."

"Psh. If you're fat, then you are definitely the skinniest fat person I know," Stiles joked. Jamie narrowed her eyes at him, making his heart stop as he realized what he just said.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?" she asked slowly. Stiles faltered.

"Uh, well, it was supposed to be a compliment, until my brain, like, decided to disconnect from my mouth, and then words just kind of happened without my brain telling them to and the end result was something that I did not set out to say in the first place."

"Hmm. I'll forgive you. But just this once," she said, wagging a finger at him and smirking.

"Oh, thank heavens. I don't know what I would have done otherwise," Stiles said, putting his hand to his forehead and pretending to faint.

"Wallowed in misery until dying a slow and painful death," Jamie replied nonchalantly.

"Oh wow," Stiles said, slightly taken aback. Jamie slowly slid her hands up to hide her face.

"Sorry. I'm tired and I've been reading way too many things about darkness and stuff lately," she said, her voice muffled by her hands. "I'm really bad at thinking before I speak."

"Why don't we just call it even and forget the weirdness ever happened?" Stiles offered, holding out a hand to shake. After all, he was the last person who could judge people who make weird comments.

"That sounds marvelous," she said with a sigh of relief, taking his outstretched hand. He tried not to dwell on how soft they were.

"Done deal. Weirdness is behind us."

"Excellent," Jamie replied as the bus slowed to a stop in the Beacon Hills High parking lot. The teens slowly stood up, grabbing their things and filing off the bus like exhausted zombie sheep. Stiles waved goodbye to Jamie before heading over to the opposite side of the parking lot with Scott.

"You know, your game isn't half bad," Scott said with a smirk.

"You were awake during all that?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"Maybe," Scott said with a shrug.

"You know, considering all the weird things I had to deal with when you were with Allison, I'm not even embarrassed."

"You should be, you called her fat."

"I did _not _call her fat. I just have a problem with words sometimes. I think it's related to my ADHD."

"Everything's related to your ADHD."

"It is a very consuming and demanding disease," Stiles said, arriving at his Jeep and unlocking the door. "See you tomorrow, bro."

"See you!" Scott said, making his way down to his dirt bike.

Stiles went home, indulging in a nice frozen pizza before showering and heading to bed, dreaming of soccer girls and baked goods.

Scott was awoken at 3 a.m. by the little girl from the woods standing in his bedroom.

* * *

Oh snap! More ghosts? More ghosts.

Isaac Fan: Yay I'm so glad you liked it! Your review made my day! I wasn't originally planning for any Scott/OC action, but hey, if it keeps you around...I may have to see what I can do! :D

Special thanks to ahiddenbanshee for being the best beta in the whole wide world!

Please review, it makes my bleak days brighter!

-XM


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